


Come, Sleep

by fengirl88



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, First Time, M/M, PWP, Sharing a Bed, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Got nothing left but the one double,” the desk clerk says apologetically.</p><p>Erik's about to say they'll try somewhere else when Charles says “We'll take it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come, Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for the square "sharing a bed" on my trope_bingo card.
> 
> This one is for thimpressionist, with love and thanks.

“Got nothing left but the one double,” the desk clerk says apologetically.

Erik's about to say they'll try somewhere else when Charles says “We'll take it.”

Oh great. For the twentieth time, Erik wonders why he said yes to this crazy recruiting trip. It's hard enough as it is, being at such close quarters with Charles day after day...

“Sorry, Erik,” Charles says. “I know you'd rather not share. I just don't think I can go any further tonight.”

He looks exhausted, and no wonder: wiping a whole bar full of minds after that fight earlier this evening must have taken a lot out of him. Erik tells himself to stop being a selfish uptight pain in the ass.

“It's fine,” he says. “It'll be fine.”

He can sleep in a chair. He's done it often enough before, when he was tracking Klaus Schmidt.

 

The room is small, and the only chair is a hard wooden one. Erik glares at it; this is going to be a rough night and they've got a long journey ahead of them tomorrow.

Charles comes out of the bathroom, shrugs off his dressing-gown and slides between the sheets.

Erik tries not to look, but it's too late. He retreats into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He steps under the shower, trying to blot out the thought of Charles naked in bed, just the other side of the wall, but it's impossible _not_ to think of Charles as he takes himself in hand. Maybe if he does this now he won't be awake for hours fantasising about how Charles's mouth would feel on his cock, or imagining Charles's eyes wide and dark at the push and stretch of Erik's cock inside him, Charles's legs wrapped around his waist as he arches up and kisses Erik...

Erik comes hard, leaning his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower as he shudders and gasps, biting his fist in the effort not to cry out. He washes himself off, towels himself roughly dry, and gets dressed again.

“Aren't you coming to bed?” Charles asks, sounding straightforwardly puzzled when Erik emerges from the bathroom still fully dressed.

“I'll take the chair,” Erik says.

“Don't be absurd,” Charles says crisply. “You'll be no use tomorrow if you don't get some sleep.”

It's true that he feels tired. Maybe the tiredness and having just come will be enough to make it safe.

Erik strips reluctantly to his undershirt and shorts and gets into bed, lying as close to the edge as he can manage. It feels weird, being in bed with Charles. He wills himself to fall asleep _fast_.

“Night, Erik,” Charles says, and turns out the light.

It takes Erik less than five minutes to realize that this was a very big mistake. This close to Charles, the smell of his skin makes Erik's mouth water. He wants to lick Charles all over, kiss every inch of him...

 _Fuck_. Erik stares into the darkness, issuing furious commands to his treacherous body, _stop that, stop that NOW_. It's no good: he's getting hard again, the scent of Charles in his nostrils and the heat of Charles's body so close to his, Charles's breath stirring the hairs on the back of his neck, why is he lying so close, how is Erik supposed to cope with –

Charles's lips against the back of his neck, not an accident, not _possible_ , a deliberate hot damp pressure, and Charles's _tongue_ –

Erik groans.

Charles kisses him behind the ear, which is even worse, and then trails his tongue down to the junction of Erik's neck and shoulder. His fingers trace a teasing line from Erik's jaw to the base of his throat and on down, brushing his nipples through the cotton before pulling his undershirt up over his head. Erik feels the heat and hardness of Charles's erection pressing against his back, the shock of skin against skin a fiery jolt of pleasure going right through him.

“Still too many clothes,” Charles says. He strokes Erik's waist, sliding his fingertips under Erik's waistband with a deliberately too-light touch that makes Erik growl, and pushes his undershorts down. 

Erik kicks them off and that's it: he's naked in bed with Charles Xavier caressing his chest and his stomach and his thighs, touching Erik everywhere but his cock. Erik writhes, trying to press himself against Charles's hand. 

“Mmm,” Charles says appreciatively. He sounds impossibly pleased with himself.

Erik's not having that: he turns and flips Charles onto his back, straddling him and pushing him down into the mattress. He kisses him, so hard he tastes the metal in Charles's blood. 

Charles scratches his back and thrusts up against him, wrapping his legs around Erik's waist just the way Erik imagined in the shower –

“Eavesdropper,” Erik hisses, and bites Charles's neck.

“I, _ah_ , couldn't help it,” Charles says, as Erik pushes his hand between them and grasps his cock. “Erik, _oh_ – ”

Erik moves his hand fast and hard, working till he can feel Charles is nearly going over, then stops. Charles gives a cry of protest and jerks his hips.

“How long?” Erik demands. “How long have you known?” He gives a twist of his fingers that makes Charles gasp.

“A – a while,” Charles says, “ _oh_ , but you were pushing those thoughts away so hard, I didn't, _please_ , Erik – ”

It's amazing, seeing Charles so wrecked and desperate, seeing him right on the edge because of _him_. Erik wants to hold this moment for ever but he also wants to see Charles fall apart, wants to feel Charles coming over his fist, over both of them, pulses of wet heat, wants it so much that he's close to coming again himself, just thinking about it –

Charles gives a choked cry and comes, just like that, a surge of pleasure that echoes in Erik's body, tipping him over the edge into his own orgasm as he ruts against Charles's thigh and collapses on top of him, seeing stars.

Erik feels as if he's floating, warm and dizzy and sweet. Charles pushes him gently onto his back and rolls over to kiss his chest, rubbing his face against Erik like a contented cat. Erik half expects him to start purring.

Charles gives a little snort of amusement and grabs Erik's discarded undershirt, using it to clean them both up. Erik's too drunk with pleasure to protest.

“Sleep now?” Charles says, pressing closer to him and burying his face in Erik's shoulder.

“Mm,” Erik agrees.

Tonight, for the first time in as long as he can remember, it feels as if the nightmares may not come.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ivor Gurney's song, [Sleep](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwMz0nAYVmg).


End file.
